Abidjan un peu

Well, I made it to West Africa. It was nice to compare and contract with East Africa, although I tried to be one of those annoying development workers who spends the whole time talking about their frame of reference country (i.e., Uganda). My first observation is that the food is great. Ivorians are into spicy. At lunch one day, I asked the woman sitting next to me if I could have a tiny bit of her mound of habanero. I took about a 1/4 of tsp and mixed it into my fish dish. She took the mound, about a tablespoon, and mixed it in. I started eating and it was delicious and then I sputtered and coughed. And then to my mortification, I sneezed. Oy! At least I got the table laughing..at me.

As I have a serious African fabric addiction, I noted that there are two places that produce the famous fabric on the continent: DRC and Ivory Coast. Yet, I managed to resist the urge to buy new stuff. This did not stop me from practically drooled as women strolled by, dressed to the 9s, tailored to perfection in patterns and colors I had never seen before.

The infrastructure in Abidjan was impressive, especially considering the recent violent and bloody conflict. There were nice big highways with overpasses and under passes. A newly renovated university. Water that is treated ad apparently safe to drink, although I did not test that theory. And yes I did compare Abidjan to Kampala and Abidjan puts Kampala to shame!

I got to spend time with Jeanne, of course. Her estate is similar to her last one: palatial and cavernous (unpack, JB, unpack!) It was always a blast to have Jeanne host me and a few of her new colleagues, not least to watch the scales fall from their eyes as she mixed intriguing cocktails (and by intriguing, I mean toxic). Nothing like a ginger champagne mixed with a gooey "liquor" from Kinshasa. While dancing to Akon this made sense. The next day, not so much.

My one complaint was the weather. On the one hand it was lovely to feel the heat of the African sun. It is so much stronger and I could just feel the vitamin D rushing into my body. I didn't get to the much celebrated beach in my short time there. But despite it's promise, it would be hard for me to ever live in Abidjan, because of the very hot and very humid inner city heat - like DC in August. My hair is still not speaking to me! Despite liberal applications of my finest hair schlack, I had to keep in tightly wound in a bun almost the whole time. But for a week, in the middle of the winter doldrums, this work jaunt was worth it.